American Nightmare
by The Awesome Novice Writer
Summary: "Fight fire with fire and all you get is ash." Forty students. Eight volunteers. One revolution. A sequel to Reconstruction Destruction. A modern day AU.
1. From Protest to Revolution

**Warning: This story contains pervasive, sometimes sadistic, violence, torture, vulgar, sometimes demeaning, language, sexual themes, nudity, sexual assault, drug use, and some other elements that some might find disturbing. There will be no other warnings besides this one. The thoughts and actions of these characters do not reflect my beliefs and morality. All these characters are products of my imagination. **

**A/N: This is a sequel to Reconstruction Destruction. It is not required reading but there will be some references to that fic and will be a little easier to understand just reading the first two chapters of that story.**

* * *

Dante Korenic wasn't surprised to see the innumerable amount of police officers that stood around in ideally strategic positions within the streets of the city. After all, it was to be expected when there was a signing of a new Youth Reconstruction Act.

The new act that would allow the government more power in order to further push the Y.R.A in their favour as well as fight those that opposed it. It would also further restrict what mediocre freedoms citizens of the U.S.A still had. So of course there were going to be protests from the local populace as well as those that lived further away.

Most of the protesters were those that wanted to just try and get their message across by raising their fists and chanting while holding signs up that showed their displeasure. Talk about how things were shit and were just going to get shittier when the new act got passed.

The protest had started out small, but as more and more in and out of towners joined in, the crowd grow into a mass of people that grew more and more bold. Because with their safety in numbers mentality, they felt that they could get away with more and more outlandish protest methods. But even then, the most they did was cause road blocks and force city officials to go the long way around the city or trap those city official vehicles within a sea of bodies. Spray paint the windshields or hit them with silly string. Anything they could do to inconvenience them. Petty things that would accomplish nothing more than maybe pushing back timings.

Some didn't think that the movement would be very big because of the weather. The air was slightly chilling and a layer of snow had already made the streets it's new home. And the snow on the ground was only getting thicker as it continued to fall from the dreary sky. But it didn't seem to stop those that were determined to show up and brave whatever was going to be put against them.

The police would try and make the crowd disperse by throwing flash bangs or push them back with their riot shields. But more than anything, they were just making sure that the protesters didn't get out of hand and kept a reasonable distance away from anything they weren't supposed to be near.

Overall, the protesters kept their word of being peaceful, and because of that, the police couldn't arrest as many as they would have liked, or take more drastic measures. Because even with the Y.R.A, gunning down or beating down protesters wouldn't garner support for the cause. So they only used as much force as was permitted.

Dante looked at those peaceful protesters and felt pity for them. Pity for their naivety. As well as anger. For didn't they see that you couldn't get anywhere with those peaceful protests? Couldn't they see that they would change nothing? That no one would take them seriously and they were nothing more than a joke? Like a few road blocks and a few thousand yellers would stop the new Y.R.A from being signed.

If you really wanted to be listened to, you had to send a strong message. One that couldn't be brushed off or ignored. One that would make people think. One that would inspire people if need be. Or send fear to those that needed to be frightened.

It had been planned for weeks as he and other like minded individuals from across the country went over the details. Until finally, the day of reckoning came.

Just like they had planned, schools from all across the country had came to Washington D.C to witness the new signing. Some of the kids coming along thought that it was just another school trip that they were forced to attend. But others knew that hackers had broken into the school systems and arranged for them to travel to D.C in order for them to participate in Operation Gun Smoke. A violent protest, a revolution, that would make those in charge of the Y.R.A and those politicians think twice before they try to further restrict the rights and freedoms of the youth.

Things were already bad enough.

Forced to kill in a live television event because you were chosen at random? Where was the humanity? There wasn't any.

They said that it was to discourage the youth from becoming evermore violent and to try and get their lives sorted out before things became worse for the nation. But they were selling live coverage of The Program. Was this for the protection of the new generation or was this all for the dollar bill?

Dante knew where he stood in that debate, for things hadn't always been good in America. There had always been violence and poverty and unemployment. So why should one school shooting and one mass riot change the course of The American Dream? Why should people like him and his friends be terrified by the prospect of getting kidnapped during high school so that they could fight and die for the entertainment of some sick fucks?

Checking his watch, Dante saw that it was almost time. And he was scared.

Not scared enough to back off, for this was something that he believed needed to be done. And if he didn't do his part, he'd never forgive himself.

And while he expected resistance, what he, and most others, hadn't expected, were those in camouflage that also mingled in the streets with the black clad police officers.

National guard servicemen.

Why were they there? Was it because they were expecting something big? Or were they just there as a precaution? A deterrent?

Dante didn't know, but that didn't change anything. He was still going to go through with the plan, even if it meant capture or death was more of a likely now.

The time was nigh though, and he didn't have anymore time thinking about his death of capture. It was either move forward and fight, or continue to be oppressed and cower and hope that someone else will fight for you.

He pulled that had been hanging around his neck up his charcoal plaid bandana above his nose and donned a pair of red lensed sunglasses.

Moments later, a loud, high pitched screeching wailed in the air. Dante looked up for a moment and saw a small white circle sailing straight up into the air. When it reached it's apex, it blew into a shower of brilliant red sparks with a loud pop. Almost like a crisp snap, like a gunshot.

Seconds later, more of those red sparks and dry snaps occurred from different streets.

Some hadn't even noticed them as they continued their protests. Others noticed them and continued to watch the skies, not knowing what they meant.

However, those that did know what it signified jumped into action.

Breaking through the crowd of peaceful protesters or coming out from wherever they had been, the assault against the police and the national guard had began as revolutionaries from all around the country answered the call of duty.

Dante watched as home brewed weapons of all kinds were used to attack the government thugs. Ranged weapons such as glass bottles, rocks and bricks were used along with homemade explosives such as pipe bombs and molotov cocktails.

Close range weapons such as baseball bats, knives, chains, and whatever else the students could smuggle in, were used.

And there were firearms as well.

Dante himself had a Glock nineteen handgun and had every intention of using it.

Of course, the police and national guard had their own weapons and firearms. Most of them better than what the home front revolutionaries were using, but you used what you had and Dante knew that they weren't going down without a fight.

Through the initial chaos and confusion, Dante shoved his way through a crowd of protesters and, with the Glock in hand, jogged towards the nearest riot cop.

"Hey! Riot pig!" Dante screamed before he shot the cop in the head, point blank, and spilled his brains into the snow.


	2. Third Party Witnesses

For what felt like the twentieth time, Nathan Philips watched the news of the Washington D.C riot that had taken place two days prior.

Though he had expected resistance to the signing of the Y.R.A and that not all would be peaceful, he hadn't expected that so many would have committed themselves to violence. And so many of them were kids. If anything, most of those that had turned to violence and instigated the riot were kids. High schoolers mostly. But then again, he shouldn't have been surprised. After all, they were the reason the Y.R.A had came into effect in the first place. Delinquency at it's worst.

And how many had suffered because of that riot?

At thirty five years old and having been born and raised in D.C, he had experienced the first D.C riot. He hadn't participated in it, but he had been caught in the middle of it when it had first erupted. And though this riot wasn't as bad as the first one, it still left a trail of destruction that would take a long time to fully repair.

Police and national guardsmen, along with protesters and innocent civilians had been killed or injured. And like before the Y.R.A had came into effect, like with many of those that had taken advantage of the chaos because of the Thomson twins and those that supported them, some that had evidently participated in the riot did so for fun. Not because they had any sort of cause they wanted to further push, but because they wanted to have fun. Because they wanted to loot from stores or have an excuse to hurt people for their own selfish wants. To bring upon destruction wherever they walked and use the new Y.R.A signing as an excuse.

He really wished that things hadn't gone down that way and that things could have just flowed smoothly. That the worst thing to happen was that some peaceful protester was hauled away in a police van because they were being too much of a nuisance. That all that paranoia and rumours and facts about a revolution was just paranoia and bullshit.

But instead, it turned into a mess. A bloody, violent mess.

Sipping at his coffee that was mixed with a splash of Four Roses Bourbon, Nathan turned the TV to a different channel, one that he hoped wasn't talking about the second D.C riot. He had to go through five different channels before he found an old sitcom that he had watched before, but it would help take his mind off his troubles. At least, until his break was over.

"Mind if I join you?" A mellow voice asked. Glancing to the side, Nathan noticed that it was one of his work colleagues. He was a few years younger than himself, but was already losing hair and gaining weight.

Nathan politely gestured to the seat next to himself, even though he wondered why the other man couldn't have gone somewhere else to enjoy the free time they had. But he supposed there wasn't much where else he could go in the building. It was either this break room or the next, the bathrooms, the cafeteria, or the work room, which was filled with nothing but other technicians like them. Working tirelessly to make sure that everything was up and running in order to broadcast The Tenth Annual Program. That, and to make sure there wasn't anywhere for the participants to escape. Because even though precautions were taken, there had been those that had tried in the past. None of them had succeeded, but damn did they try. Even if there was little success.

The only other rooms that the building offered were the rooms that the overnight staff would use to sleep or hangout in. But those rooms had been given to the enforcers to relax in. But when Nathan had last visited one of them, they had seemed to be doing anything but relaxing.

The younger man took a seat to his left, but not in the one directly beside him, which Nathan appreciated. "Mindless sitcom, huh?" The man stated with interest as he looked at what was playing on TV. "Not watching the news unfold about the riot or watching previous Programs?"

"No." Nathan answered as he took a sip of his spiked coffee. "It'd like a little break from all this death and destruction. Try to relax before we're thrown to the wolves. After all, we're going to have our work cut out for us when those high school kids enter the arena tomorrow. How many times do you think we might have to go into that arena and fix those cameras those so called revolutionaries break?"

"More times than I'd like." The man answered as he struck a match and burned the end of a Kool cigarette. Smoking wasn't allowed in the building, but things were so busy and tense that nobody really gave a damn.

The police and the military had brought in the kids from the riot, whether it was because they were a rioter, a protester, or just an innocent bystander that came because their school had mandated it. Though in reality, not nearly as many of them would have went if it weren't for those hackers.

Identified by their school I.D, those that were chosen were loaded into cargo trucks, with the surplus sent to either prison, the hospital, or the morgue.

The younger man waved the match flame out before placing it in his shirt pocket. "But the ones I'm really concerned about are our enforcers. If those theories are correct, then they're in more danger than ever. And the things we're asking of them. Jesus, man, shouldn't be asking kids for things like that."

"They volunteered for it, remember?" Nathan replied back. "They all came for a reason. And unlike us, they could have refused. But yeah, you're right, I don't envy them. They're going against a bunch of trouble makers. Those that oppose the Y.R.A and, well, create shit like that riot. It's like putting natural born enemies into a cage and letting them go at it. Those students that were rioters aren't going to go down easily, and our enforcers won't let them off easily. Last I heard, they were watching re-runs of previous Programs and the second D.C riot to psych themselves up. To remind them of why they're here and why they're going to do what they're going to do."

"I think that they're taking this very personal as well."

"After seeing the assassinations of some of their heroes, I can see why they're taking it personally." Nathan then let out a deep sigh. "But you know who I really for sorry for?"

"Who?" The younger man asked as he blew smoke from his mouth.

"Those kids that will have to participate in The Program, even though they had nothing to do with the riot. They were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Dragged along because a classmate, or schoolmate, decided that they were going to violently oppose the new signing. Chosen at random by the police or military, knocked out, and loaded onto a truck."

After that, the conversation came to an end as the room became heavy and somber.

Nathan had wanted to relax but was now unable to, even with the aid of spiked coffee and an old sitcom playing in front of him. He just now couldn't stop thinking about the two opposing ideologies that were going to clash in the arena. Those that would be caught in the crossfire. And those that would be doing anything in order to survive that deadly game. All the while, it would be broadcasted for the country to see. As well as those abroad that paid extra to watch.

The two of them stared at the TV until the sitcom was over, then went back to work, knowing that tomorrow was going to be a hell of a time.


	3. Roster

**Class Rosters**

***Important: Because of unforseen circumstances, the ages and schools of partisipating students are to remain blank until further notice.***

**GIRLS:**

1) Emily Harris

2) Jessica Clark

3) Charlotte Brown

4) Megan Campbell

5) Sophie Adams

6) Molly Asher

7) Bethany Roberts

8) Payton Clegg

9)Tara Wallenberg

10) Claire Martins

11) Hailey Littlestone

12) Ashley Sanks

13) Harper Nord

14) Kennedy Brustman

15) April Abrams

16) Victoria O'Donald

17) Nicole Stoppa

18) Erin Thomas

19) Georgia Bennett

20) Mackenzie Jones

**BOYS:**

1) Hugo Cambria

2) Allen Kelser

3) Malcom Rodgers

4) Jay Myers

5) Clark Barrasow

6) Frank Irwiss

7) Wade Ryders

8) Marshall Goddard

9) Spencer Woods

10) Cody Erisville

11) Dante Korenic

12) Leon Comstock

13) Elliot Curtis

14) Wesley Glover

15) Rick Garrison

16) Peter Avila

17) Brandon Miller

18) Quinton Blackburn

19) Kevin Orso

20) Bruce Tucker

**Enforcers:**

***Important: For saftey purposes, the surnames of the partisipating enforces will remain blank on a need to know basis***

**GIRLS**:

1) Felicia (18)

2) Bridget (18)

3) Juliet (18)

4) Evie (18)

**BOYS:**

1) Alex (18)

2) Joshua (18)

3) Ryker (18)

4) Toby (18)


	4. Let Us Begin

He felt himself coming back to consciousness, but was still feeling as drowsy as he had been before he had unexpectedly passed out.

How had that happened? He couldn't remember. All he knew at the moment was that he had a wicked headache, much like that of a hangover, and that he had somehow fallen asleep in the middle of the riot. Really, how does one fall asleep in the middle of a riot? One where gunshots and explosions are going on around you? When you're being attacked by police and national guard?

Through the fog in his mind, he could faintly still hear those gunshots and explosions. Those that were screaming aggressively and those that were screaming in terror. The stench of gunpowder in the air and the foul taste and burn of teargas. The hot blood that spattered onto him as he fought those government goons along with the rest of the revolutionaries.

He wondered if those that had originally just wanted to be peaceful had been inspired by their actions. If they had joined in on the fight and aided them for a better future rather than just stand on the sidelines and pretend they were contributing. He really didn't know, all he knew was that there had seemed to be more revolutionaries than he had originally thought there were going to be. For he had expected those that would chicken out at the last moment. But the numbers surprised him. The fear of arrest or death hadn't detoured them all.

The riot would show on the news and there would be even more that'd be inspired by their actions. A ripple effect.

Dante Korenic would have smiled if he didn't feel so groggy and felt the need to vomit so badly.

And what else was he feeling? Minor aches and pain? Mostly coming from his arms, sides, and back. He recalled being beaten by some riot officers with their boots and nightsticks, and one of them even bashed him in the face with his plastic shield. But they weren't feeling as badly as they should have been.

And what was around him even? The air was warm. Not too warm as it was barely comfortable, but it was much more warm than it had been during the riot. Maybe because there wasn't even a breeze to be felt and no snow was falling on him.

Dante slowly opened his eyes, only getting a glimpse of the sights before he closed them again, feeling that they were much too heavy to keep open for the moment. But what he did see was that he was indeed indoors. Inside a room that was as bare as could be. Maybe there was a window or two? No lights were on, yet he could see. Yes, there had to be a window.

Clutching his head, Dante fought through the pulsing headache as best he could, opened his eyes once again, and this time, forced his eyes to remain open for as long as he could make them as he scanned the room he was in.

Yes, it was bare and dark. But light was shining into the room from two windows in a steady flow. It wasn't much, but it was enough to see with. The room itself wasn't that big either. About the size of a small bedroom.

_Huh... Am I in a detention center or something?_ Dante asked himself. _Did I get struck from behind and get knocked out? Possible since my head is killing me. Or am I in some kind of interrogation room?_

Dante closed and opened his eyes several more times before they could remain open without him forcing them to.

He was just starting to stand up when he heard an electronic radio squawk, and suddenly, loud, patriotic music started blaring into the room. The sudden noise caused Dante to cover his ears with both hands and close his eyes. It made his groan and though his ears were covered, he could still hear the music.

The music went on for another twenty seconds before it faded away, much to his relief. But now he was wondering what that was all about. Even though he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, and it wasn't because of the feeling of wanting to vomit.

Then a woman's voice started to fill the room. Her voice wasn't as loud as the music had been, but loud enough to be heard and understood.

"Welcome one, welcome all, I am so glad that you're all awake so we can finally begin." _Not like we'd have much of a choice. _Dante thought bitterly as the blaring music was still fresh in his mind as it had made his ears ring and continue to ring. "First, I'd like to be the one to welcome all of you to the tenth annual Youth Reconstruction Program." It was then that Dante understood the dread that had been building up within him. It wasn't a detention center, or an interrogation room. Instead, it was his starting point in The Program. _Shit! Shit!_

He hated how the woman's voice seemed to be cheerful. Infuriatingly cheerful. After all, what was there to be cheerful about? "As you all should know, this is where you're all stranded, in the middle of nowhere, with no chance of escape in a game of survival of the fittest The rules are simple, really. Kill everyone until only one of you lovely contestants are left. In one of the corners of your rooms you'll find a duffle bag that contains a day's worth of food and water, a map, compass, flashlight, and of course, your randomly assigned weapon! It could be anything, anything that might fit in a duffle! If you don't like what you have, don't fret, there's plenty more scattered around the area and in the hands of fellow participants But do be warned, there are volunteers out there that will be much less friendly than your fellow participants, and they are not happy. Oh no. They heard about the little rebellion some of you engineered and want to meet you personally. Remember, our volunteers don't count towards the final number, so keep that in mind as you fight those from around the country. And remember, you're never alone. The trackers we've placed inside you not only let us track your location but also lets us kill you if you try anything cute, like not play. And there's microphones everywhere, so the audience will also have the adventure with you! Now, we've still got time before we get started, is there anyone that wants to say anything? Anything at all?"

_Shit! Fuck!_ Dante thought with anger, but also fear as the situation was dawning on him. _We took the chance. We fought against them in D.C, and now they've got us by the fucking balls. Shit! Shit! We failed! We fucking failed! But this was something we saw happening to us, wasn't it? Because The Program was so close to the day._ "Oh my," the woman's voice said. "It appears we have someone who claims they weren't part of the riot. Listen here."

The voice of a girl came out of the speakers. It sounded like she was crying.

"Please let me go! I wasn't part of the riot! I'm not one of those that killed those officers or those military men! I was just there for a school field trip! Please! Please, you have to believe me!"

"Oh sweetie," the woman said with a tone that Dante wasn't sure was genuine sympathy or not. "I'm so sorry that you had to get involved in this mess because of those horrible rebels. But you know how the selection is. Random. Hopefully you can show that you're a real American patriot by winning. Or not letting those rebels win."

"Bullshit." Dante said under his breath. "If you wanted to punish us, they should have just let us play the game rather than letting the innocents get mixed in as well."

It seemed that someone else was thinking the same thing as well, as the woman spoke again.

"Oh? What do we have here?"

A male voice came from the speaker.

"Random? It didn't have to be random you fucking bitch! The government could have sorted the rioters from the innocent! You assholes claim to be for the people, but how can that be so if you're sending innocents to their fucking deaths?"

"And how can the rebels claim to be for the people when they willingly send those same innocents into the riot?" The woman spoke with a calm and even voice. Though Dante could swear he heard some detest. "You rebels hacked into the school systems and got busloads of students to travel to the capital for your convenience. If anything, you put them in unwarranted danger for your own cause. And while we did want to separate the innocents from the rioters, we had little time to sort the scum from the clean. From the point of view of the police and national guard, everyone looked like a threat within that pandemonium."

"I bet you'd still be saying the same damn thing even if things went off without the riot!" Dante screamed at the ceiling, not knowing where the cameras or microphones were. "Random! It's just all random! Even in previous programs you could have been pitting scum against scum! But instead, you choose at random! You take the lives of those that are innocent as well! So you know what? I'll play your fucking retarded game! But you know what I'll be doing? Not killing the innocent school kids so you and the other sick, self righteous bastards can jerk off to our misery! I'll be killing your enforcers! We'll kill them all! And after that, you'll have no pull on us!"

It took a few seconds after his speech, but the woman spoke through the speakers.

"Ah, a self righteous rebels speaks. Listen to what he has to say, everyone."

Dante then heard his speech flow through the speakers, and he hoped that he'd inspire other revolutionaries, or even some of those that originally weren't, to continue to fight against the government anyway they could. "I wonder if you can hear the hypocrisy in your words. And even if you believe in what you're saying, I doubt you'll succeed in more than one way. Also, our enforcers knew that there was going to be someone like you, so they prepared a little speech for you." The sound of papers being shuffled occurred before the woman spoke again. "From our enforcers: Hey, rebel tards. You can try and team up and try to take us down. But know this, we will make what is left of your lives miserable, just like how you've made innocent lives miserable. We didn't choose to want to hurt these people. You got them to come to the capital, and become involved in a riot they didn't know about. And now, here they are, trapped in here, with you and us, like scared, fucking rats. You've done more harm than good. So don't pray for God, for he has abandoned you. And this arena? Us? We're not demons, and this isn't Hell. We're worse than demons, and this is worse than Hell. Know why? Because this is real. You better watch your asses out there, rebels. From, the enforcers."

Dante could hear the woman placing the paper down before she continued speaking. "What a lovely way to end question time. In a few moments, your doors will automatically unlock and you can go explore the town as you see fit. However, don't forget your duffle bag of goodies. And for those that didn't come adequately equipped for the winter, don't you worry, we gave you dearies some winter jackets so you won't freeze to death. So go out there and fight your best and make your country proud!"

There was a static squawk before a loud electronic buzz, telling Dante that he was no longer trapped in the room he had woken up in.

He looked around once again, his eyes having adjusted to the dark somewhat, and found what he was looking for. The duffle bag in the back left corner. No wonder he hadn't seen it, it had been behind him the entire time.

He walked over to the duffle bag before unzipping it to see what it contained. And just like the lady had said, it contained a day's worth of food and water and a randomly assigned weapon. Dante grabbed his to examine it and saw that it was a good one. Not as nice as a gun, but he liked it.

With a curved and serrated blade with a black and curved handle, Dante gave the ice axe a couple of swings and thought of how easy it would pierce through an enforcer's body.

He zipped up the duffle bag and exited the room, looking through the house and finding nothing before he headed outside, and was greeted by the snowfall of large snowflakes and an artificially drab sky. The floodlights making the area brighter than it should have been at midnight with a dark sky. Still, there were plenty of dark spots that warranted the use of a flashlight.

There was a forest and a town. And it seemed that not all of the town was in one area, so the forest would need to be trekked in order to find the rest. A risk since anyone could be anywhere and there were plenty of places to hide and wait.

Pulling the hood of his dark grey jacket over his head and watching his breath turn into fog, Dante decided to walk around the town to see if there was any other like minded revolutionaries around.

* * *

_Can't be that hard to find them here, will it?_

That was the thought that was going through Georgia Bennett's head as she wandered around the abandoned, snow capped town. Looking around carefully so that she could spot anyone that was out in the open, and maybe even those that wanted to hide. Georgia knew that there was a slim chance she'd be able to survive on her own, which was why she needed to team up with more people. Because even if she was sixteen and a girl of nearly six feet, she was still one person. If what the enforcers promised was true, then she'd need to find her fellow revolutionaries. The ones that fought against the government in the capital. And if she could, recruit others that weren't part of the initial conflict. Safety in numbers. Simple.

And while she didn't feel totally safe on her own, the Smith & Wesson Model Fifteen revolver she held in her hand gave her some comfort. Just like back in D.C, she wasn't going to go down easily. If she was going to go down, then she was going to go down fighting. She just hoped that she'd spot the enforcer first rather than the other way around.

They were tough bastards, shown time and time again on TV. But then again, they were just like the rest of them. Flesh and bone. They bleed the same as everyone else.

It could be the same said for herself, as that's what she started thinking as she heard the sound of gunshots and pieces of brick and mortar breaking apart behind her. Acting upon instinct, Georgia screamed, covered her head with both hands, and dived to the snow covered ground. Because she had her finger within the revolver's trigger guard, Georgia pulled the trigger and discharged a shot when she went prone, causing her to shriek once again.

Whoever was shooting at her shifted their aim, as puffs of snow blew upwards, but many of them still hit the building behind her. And while none of them were close to hitting her, it still frightened her very much.

"Stop! Stop!" Georgia cried out, but whoever was firing at her kept on going. And Georgia, not wanting to continue being shot at, pointed her revolver in the direction she thought the shots were coming from and fired two shots in rapid succession, not really aiming, not wanting to hit the person.

No further gunshots came towards her, telling her that she should have scared them enough for them to hide or something. Georgia took the opportunity to shout out to them in the hopes that it was someone she could team up with. "Gun smoke! Gun smoke! Operation Gun Smoke!" Georgia cried out as she scrambled to her hands and feet, and on all fours, ran to a garbage can and hide behind it. But not before firing off another round since her finger was still within the trigger guard. _Damn it! have to watch out for that!_

Georgia was breathing more heavily than she should have been just from crawling to cover a short distance away, as she waited for a response. Nothing. "Are you a fellow revolutionary?" Georgia asked. "Even if you're not, we can still team up! Keep each other safe!"

Two seconds after she finished her sentence, she found herself under attack again. _An enforcer! Shit!_

Georgia waited until there was a lull in the gunfire before she fired off her remaining two shots in where she thought the enemy was before returning to cover.

"Bitch!" A girl's voice screamed out from across the street, though she didn't know exactly where. It sounded young. Still sort of high pitched. Georgia guessed that they were fourteen, the younger part of high school. "You fucking bitch! I'm in The Program because of you!"

"I'm on your side!" Georgia reasoned with the girl as she opened her revolver cylinder and turned the revolver skyward, allowing the used shells to drop out. "I'm fighting for people like you!"

"I didn't want to die!" The girl screamed as more shots came after Georgia, causing her to fumble with the fresh ammo and made her occasionally miss the cylinder slots as she hurried to load the revolver one shot at a time. "I didn't want to be part of your rebellion! I don't want to die!"

Having only loaded three of the six slots within the cylinder, Georgia decided to abandon trying to load the rest as she snapped the cylinder back into the weapon's frame.

"I can protect you!" Georgia repeated, hoping to get the girl to change her mind and not become part of the game anymore than she had to be. Become what the government wanted her to think and become. What they wanted her to do. "We can-" A piece of brick, created because of a bullet striking the wall, cut across her face. And though it was small it stung. "Ahhh! Damn it!" Georgia screamed as she cupped her hand just above her cheek. _She won't listen to reason. Fuck it!_ "Fine!" She then opened up the cylinder again as she reached out and picked up two of the bullets she had dropped into the snow. "If you're not with us, you're against us!" Georgia managed to load the two additional shots into the revolver before closing it up. _I'm not going to die like this!_

Georgia then got into a crouching position and fired off a couple of shots before standing up completely. Then she turned back and ran, firing in the general direction of her attacker until she ran out of ammo. She didn't bother trying to reload on the move.

She heard gunshots coming after her, but by the time she turned the nearest corner, it didn't matter. She had escaped. But still, she was still alone.

* * *

Never let your guard down around girl. Even if they're the pretty ones. Especially if they're the pretty ones.

That was the advice given to him by his older brother and he had abided by it for as long as he had remembered it and it had probably saved him more times than he knew of. And while there were times where he wished he wasn't so cautious around the girls at Littlerock High School, and around his town in general, he figured that it was better to be safe and well, rather than dead and sorry. And even if he weren't dead, then having been manipulated and cast aside when you were no longer of use. Like a paper cup or something.

At sixteen years old, Jay Myers was of just above average height at five foot ten, but had a lean body. Tough from the years of playing rough road hockey with the boys and playing lacrosse for his school. Not only that, but he had been granted a great weapon to fight in The Program with. An incredible weapon, really.

In his trembling hands was an M1 Garand, a weapon that was heavily used during the second world war. And yet, as he walked up the stairs with the rifle braced against his shoulder, ready to fire off shots at a moment's notice, he couldn't help but fear that girl he had seen. Why was that? It wasn't like she looked physically imposing or anything. Just an average girl, if a little tall for one.

Was it because she had been so calm? The way she had just calmly talked to him from the second floor of the house. Smiling down at him as she leaned her elbows on the balcony railing with her hands on her chin.

He hadn't even noticed her until she had spoken.

"Hello." She called out to him, which caused him to flinch before he hastily pointed his rifle at her. "Are you a rebel?" She asked, not flinching or moving, or even letting her smile drop, even as a rifle was pointed right at her.

"What?" Jay asked, more confused by why she was acting so calm rather than by the question she had just asked.

"Are you a rebel?" She asked again.

"What of it?" Jay asked, wondering where she was going with it. Was she an ally? She didn't seem like an enforcer, for he could see her face and her ugly, brown haired, pageboy haircut.

"I see..." The girl said, almost singing the last word, before she arched her back up and started walking backwards.

"Don't move!" Jay demanded. The girl didn't stop. Jay, to show that he was serious, fired a shot at her. It hit the wall to her left and above her head, but she didn't react. Instead, she disappeared into an unlit room, never looking away from him and he hadn't seen or heard anything since.

Now he was going upstairs to investigate.

_I don't like this._ He thought as he neared the room. _She may not be an enforcer, but bitches still be dangerous. Shouldn't under estimate them. Shouldn't trust them. That's what got them in trouble. And they weren't even in The Program._

Indeed, even though his older brother had been bigger than even him, he still got nearly beaten and cut to death by a girl gang that mugged him and cut him up for fun. And one of Jay's good friends had gotten blackmailed by some girls at their school because he had been thinking with his dick instead of his brain. It only reinforced his brother's message even more. And why he had joined in the revolution. Because while he wanted the violence gone, he didn't think that the Y.R.A was the way to go. There had to be a better way. Not one where desperation met more desperation.

Jay slowly walked through the hallway towards the door the girl had disappeared in, but not before he cautiously spun to point his weapon at the doors that were also there on his way down the hall. Just in case she was hiding in there somehow and was waiting to open those doors and jump out at him.

Jay managed to reach the open door without incident and saw that it was indeed as dark as he thought it was. The light had been switched off and he had no intention of going inside to try and find it, even if it were close to the door. Instead, he reached for his assigned flashlight, risking holding onto the rifle with one hand before he switched it on and placed the flashlight in his mouth and re-held the rifle properly again.

He shined the cone of light into the room and saw nothing.

He then found the light switch, which was indeed close to the door and flicked it upwards, causing the room to be bathed in light. Still, he found nobody.

Looking under the bed and in the closest yielded no results.

Jay took the flashlight out of his mouth, turned it off, and placed it back in his jacket pocket before he went to search the window. It was only slightly ajar and he pushed it open the rest of the way with the barrel of his rifle.

Looking down, left, right, and up, he didn't spot anything. _No disturbances in the snow. How strange. It's like she disappeared into thin air. Is she still in this house?_

That thought caused Jay to reel back and spin on his heels, expecting a sneak attack to come about as the girl attacked him. Instead, he saw an empty bedroom, just like before. _Not like she's a fucking ghost. She's got to be around here somewhere. But where?_

Jay slowly searched the rest of the house, making as little noise as he could, but could find nothing. Not a trace of the girl. _This girl... Did she do the sensible thing and somehow escape? Yeah, that's what should be done when facing someone with a gun and you've got nothing. She did have nothing, right? I didn't see her with anything._

Still, the house was empty and he needed to find his fellow revolutionaries if they wanted to send a message to the enforcers and the government. Just like that one guy had said.

Cautiously, Jay exited the house and back into the cold.

"Boo." He heard a girl's voice calmly, kiddingly, say in his left ear, startling him. He turned towards the sound and was going to shoot at whoever was there. But before he could, he found himself forced down onto a single knee as the girl swept her leg at the back of his left knee. Jay, yelled in surprise, but wasn't out of the fight, continued to try and swing his gun towards the girl, but the barrel stopped in it's path and he felt blinding pain as something poked a hole at the the end of his cheek and tore at it until it exited through his mouth.

Jay screamed in agony as the gaping opening in the right side of his mouth fully exposed his teeth. Hot blood poured from his wounds and he grabbed at it with his left hand, but managed to keep a hold of his M1 Garand with his right. But a sharp blow to the top of the head caused him to fall, and he would have face planted into the wooden porch if he hadn't let go of the garand and placed it in front of him.

He watched as blood dripped onto the snow before his world went momentarily black with multicoloured fireworks blasting. A wicked pain exploded in his face as he grabbed it with both hands as he groaned.

Jay managed to open his eyes in time to see the girl standing over him with her assigned weapon in her right hand. A fireplace poker. And it was raised above her head, ready to strike. She wasn't smiling this time. And her eyes contained malice. Hatred.

Jay raised his right hand above his head for protection and was about to ask her to wait, but it didn't stop him from getting hit in the head once. Twice. Three times before his body failed him and he couldn't move anymore. Four times and he was dead. The girl wanted to make sure he was dead and didn't stop bashing his head in until the sixth strike. By then, Jay's head had broken open and spattered blood all over her dark pink ski jacket and the end of her fireplace poker was bloody.

The boy was dead, but Payton Clegg felt no remorse. _Rebel scum._ She thought before she spat on his corpse.

She then liberated his ammo, food, and water. She took the batteries from the flashlight before smashing the bulbs with her fire poker. She did the same with the compass and tore the map apart, rendering them useless for anyone that happened upon the body.

Payton pulled the bolt of the M1 Garand to see if there was ammo in the weapon and there was. She let it snap shut before placing the fire poker. between her belt.

She had known that she couldn't take the boy on in a head on fight, she was much smaller than him. So she had to take him by surprise. And so she did. She had confused him. Unnerved him. Had climbed onto the roof and pushed snow back onto the edge to make it look undisturbed. Then she climbed down from the other side of the house and waited for him to exit the house. She didn't know if he was going to come out the front or back, but she had risked that he'd come out the front. Looks like it worked.

And now, she had rid the world of a rebel and had gotten her hands on a great rifle.

Things were looking up for her.


	5. Out Of Our Element

They were totally out of their element and they both knew it. However, even though they were both seventeen and came from the same place, their attitudes were quite different. Because while they had both been mostly silent, Quinton Blackburn was pretty sure that he was holding it in better than his friend, Brandon Miller.

He had ran in the opposite directions of some gunshots he had heard, along with a couple of girls yelling at each other. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but truthfully, he didn't really care. He didn't want to get caught in the middle of a firefight and just ran before more people showed up. After all, opportunists took advantage of someone that was weakened and had just gotten out of a fight. Either that, or maybe he'd run into someone that was also fleeing and decide that he was a prime target as they got the jump on him. Whatever the case, he knew that the beginning of The Program was usually the most dangerous, as that was when there was the most people running around. The time when everyone was at their most frightened and were beginning to wrap their minds around the concept of kill or be killed. Adrenaline would be flooding their bodies and clouding their minds. Just like they had with his.

He once again looked at the weapon he held in his gloved hands, and thought of how the UZI was a powerful weapon to have in the game. Compact and able to deliver automatic fire. More efficient at killing someone, depending on who you asked. However, he had never held such a weapon in his hands and wasn't sure he would be able to do much with it even if it came down to life or death.

Spray and pray. That was the best he figured he'd be able to do if someone came up to him with the intent of ending his life. Point the weapon in their general direction, pull the trigger, and pray that all those bullets he'd fire hit someone.

And while he didn't think he was the best to handle a gun, he knew that Brandon wasn't a good choice either. If anything, Brandon was just as bad as him, for Brandon had never even held a weapon in his life either. And why would either of them need or want to?

Project Proficient Academy was a safe school where the most danger you got in was the occasional fist fight. Yes, there were drugs, but it was just alcohol, cigarette, and cannabis use. So it wasn't like they were in any real danger. Unlike those outside the private school's gates. And because there was little desire to go out there, as everyone was used to living within those gates, or in the case of the new transfers, got used to living within those walls, bad influences coming in were very far and between.

_Still... Maybe we could have joined the archery team or participated in some boxing classes for fun._ Quinton thought mournfully, thinking of how useful something like that would be at the moment. Archery would have let him maybe be able to aim straight, while boxing would have him not totally rely on the UZI. _But we thought that those classes were pointless. Why would be need those kinds of extra curricular activities when we would never need them? Didn't like fighting. Thought archery was boring. Guess that's how it works..._

He continued to look at the UZI that was their saving grace before looking to his friend and saw the weapon that he was cradling. A two by four piece of wood. It wasn't much, but it was a lot better than what his assigned weapon had been, which was a useless sock puppet. Because what good would a purple sock with red buttons for eyes be when the enemy had knives and guns?

And it wasn't like they were much of a threat anyway. Neither of them were particularly big or imposing. And their private school uniforms were basically beacons to everyone that they had grown up living the high life and were easy targets. At least, in his opinion that was.

Quinton sighed, not liking their odds as he turned to watch the entrance of the barn once again.

_In the prone position, covering yourself in itchy straw, inside a cold and smelly barn, holding a sub-machine gun and willing to use it against other people. Totally out of your element._

"Do you think they're taking bets on us?" He heard Brandon ask.

"Huh?" Quinton said, taken aback for a moment before he registered the question. "Who?"

"Those back at Proficient." Brandon answered. His voice contained little energy, like he was devoid of life and was just saying what was on his mind for the sake of saying it. "The ones that were lucky enough not to be caught up in this political bullshit. You think they're watching this and placing bets on how long we'll last?"

"I'd rather not think about that right now." Quinton told him, really not wanting to think about how his life could end at any moment. His voice lacked emotion as well. "But for the sake of conversation, yes. Yes, I do think they're betting on how long we'll last." _Because that's just something we did at Proficient. We'd all buy our own separate packages of The Program in order to support the government. We'd all then watch The Program, either by ourselves or in groups and make bets, guess what was going to happen next, or just chat about what was going on. Cheer for those we liked and booed those we didn't. And we did it with smiles on our faces. It was just something we did, because we weren't in there. Better them than us, we'd always say. At least it wasn't us. At least it wasn't us. But now, we're in here. Well... Not like it changes anything anyway._

"What do you think they think our chances are?" Brandon asked.

"They probably bet on us getting killed early." Quinton answered honestly. "Forty students and eight enforcers. Maybe they bet we'd be in the high twenties at best."

"You think one of us has a chance of winning?" Brandon asked.

"We've got each other so that we can do six hour shifts watching this barn door with the UZI. Those in charge of the game were kind enough to give us some snow pants that's almost the same shade of blue as our uniforms. The straw in this barn will keep us covered and kind of warm. We've got a roof over our head and walls on all sides of us. Plus, we've got two days worth of food thanks to finding some in that house."

"You didn't answer the question." Brandon pointed out.

There was a pause between the two of them, and the air in the barn suddenly felt heavier.

"Truthfully," Quinton lightly groaned. "No. I don't think we've got a chance of winning. But I'm not ready to die yet." Another pause came. "Fuck that's depressing."

Quinton then reached into a pocket of his royal blue pea coat and pulled out a pack of Dunhill cigarettes and a matchbook. Setting the UZI down to his side, Quinton opened up the cigarette pack and withdrew a cigarette with his mouth before striking up a flame with a match and lighting the cigarette. He waved the lit match out before tossing it away and inhaled the cigarette smoke, letting it burn his lungs before exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"Can I steal one from you?" Brandon asked as Quinton took another drag of his cigarette.

"Thought you didn't smoke."

"We're going to die," he pointed out. "So I'm thinking, why the hell not?"

Quinton then tossed his friend the cigarette pack and the matchbook. Brandon caught both items in one hand before taking a cigarette and putting it in his mouth. He struck the match and burned the end of the cigarette before waving the match out. Brandon inhaled the cigarette before he started to cough. "Shit." Brandon managed to cough out before coughing some more.

When he was done coughing, Brandon took a second drag, and coughed much less.

With a scratch to his royal blue knitted cap, Quinton picked the UZI back up and resumed his watch.

* * *

She wasn't the most athletic of girls. In fact, she wasn't athletic at all. Just the opposite, actually. Which is why it didn't surprise her when she found she was quickly out of breath and bending over.

_This isn't good._ Molly Asher found herself saying to herself as she was sweating, even with the chilling temperature around her. _I haven't been out here for too long, and already I'm not feeling well._

Indeed, she felt like vomiting. But she didn't know whether it was because of all the running she had done. Running due to hearing gunshots and people shouting, wanting to find some place that seemed somewhat safe, or running because she didn't know what else to do.

Or maybe it was because she was so scared. Scared of dying and knowing that she didn't have much of an advantage because of her size. She was a heavy girl that would often lag behind everyone else and be exhausted long before physical education class was finished. And with that came the taunts and chants that came from kids that thought they were better than those less fortunate, or different, or an easy target. And Molly was all three of them.

A fat girl with wavy blond hair that was more tangled than anything else. It was easy for her schoolmates to find things to say about her. She could just imagine that they were watching her live on TV and just waiting for her to die. See how long she could last and make fun of her for being a pathetic fat pig. And maybe they were right. What could she do when she could barely survive half a P.E class?

And when the riot started in D.C, she hadn't even made it far when she had tried to run away. She had gotten caught by police officers and whacked in the stomach. She remembered that much. But not much else. She wouldn't put it past herself to have fallen asleep because she had ran more then than she had in her life before then.

Almost like now. Wheezing in order to get some breath back before she tried to run some more. Or maybe she'd just walk. After all, she didn't feel as if she could run anymore.

_Too tired to run. Too tired to flee if someone attacks me._ Molly sombrely told herself as she felt the sweat pour down her face and faintly saw the saliva dripping out of her open mouth. _If that happens, the only thing I can do is defend myself. Defend myself..._ She gave a quick chuckle to herself with that thought. _I couldn't even protect myself against words back at Elk Grove High School, how am I supposed to defend myself against physical assault? Assault with deadly weapons? And what about guns?_ Molly glanced at the weapon in her hand. An adjustable wrench. A heavy one. Heavy enough to break someone's skull open in one blow if enough force was applied. But could she actually do it? She thought back to all those times when she could have stood up for herself, but didn't. Because she was afraid of the retaliation. She had seen what happened to some kids that tried to stand up for themselves and it didn't end well for them. Either socially, physically, or both. So she just let them continue to talk shit about her, thinking that she'd get used to it. She didn't.

And now in a game of kill or be killed, did she have the courage to defend herself to the death?

_They won't hesitate to kill you._ Molly reasoned. _You shouldn't either. Yeah. Yeah! Nobody's going to feel sorry for you just because your fucking fat! You always wanted to pay them back! Now here's your chance! They hurt you, so why should it be so one sided? Self defence. That's all it is. Self defence. They attacked first. Yes. Yes, that's it!_

And though the thought that everyone was either stronger, faster, or had a better weapon than her fifteen year old self, Molly still tried to tell herself that she had to take a stand or die.

It wasn't until she felt herself get struck in the head that she came crashing back from the world in her head back to reality.

She landed on her side with a heavy thump and a cry of pain as she slid a couple of feet, leaving a slight clearing of snow where she had crash landed. The wrench flew from her hand because of the airborne flight and how hard she had landed on the ground, even with the snow covering it.

Molly groaned and tried to get her barrings as her vision was filled with static.

And then she felt it. Something jumped on top of her. A heavy weight on her stomach, before something hard started whacking her in the head repeatedly.

Unable to do anything, all Molly could do was raise her arms in front of her and try to defend herself while also trying to push her assaulter away. It didn't seem to detour them in the least as they kept raining blows on her.

And to her assaulter, sixteen year old Cody Erisville, she couldn't be more pathetic. There she had been, a fucking fatty, standing in the middle of the sidewalk all by her lonesome and not moving. She looked like an easy target. Minimal threat. And while her weapon wasn't the greatest, it was still better than what he had been assigned. A PlayStation controller. Which he was currently using to try and break the lardass' open with.

_Pathetic._ He thought with glee as he looked own upon his prey and, with the PlayStation controller in his right hand, smacked it down on her face once again. The controller was tearing at her skin and making her bleed. Her defence. Weak. Her pleading and screaming. Pitiful. _Her blood's red. Thought that it'd be something like grease or something._

He hit her a few more times in the face, causing her face to be a mess of blood before he moved his left leg and brought a knee down onto her right shoulder. He then dragged it to his left and forced it down onto the bend of her arm as the girl cried out in pain.

Cody then pushed her other arm aside and pressed his other foot onto her hand before placing as much weight as he could onto her left hand, loving the way she screamed. _Won't be screaming for much longer._ He thought as he wrapped the PlayStation controller cord around her neck once, twice, then, with each hand holding an end of the device, pulled it in opposite directions so that it was strangling her.

Molly's screams turned to stained gasps as she fought for air, but couldn't get any into her lungs. The video game controller cord constricted against her neck and it felt like it was crushing her throat. She tried to get her hands to her throat, but they were pinned.

As her body starved for oxygen, she struggle became weaker and weaker. Cody watched as her face turned redder and redder until it started to become a dark shade of purple. Her eyes started to become bloodshot. And he couldn't help but smile. _Easy. Too easy. And soon, she'll be dead._

But then Cody himself felt something smash against the side of his head, causing him to loudly cry out in agony as his vision became a temporary blur. The side of his head on fire as he instinctively let go of the end of the cord and touched the left side of his head and felt something hot pouring from his head. Blood. And was that a gash he felt?

Before Cody could get another thought it, he felt that same hard object smash against his nose and felt, as well as heard, the crunching of his nose breaking. Blood spurted from his nasal cartilage as he wailed. He grabbed at his nose with both hands as he collapsed off Molly, freeing the girl completely as she gasped for air and grabbed at the cord around her neck.

"ARRAAAGGGHHH!" Cody shouted in a bitter rage. "Mother fucker!" He wobbled to his feet. "You're going to-"

He was unaware that a zippo lighter had been opened and the wheel had been spun, producing a flame. But he suddenly became aware of the jetstream of fire that was blowing towards him and hitting him directly in the face. He felt the flames that were hot enough to melt soda cans searing his skin and burning his hair as he screamed in agony once again.

With survival the only thing on his mind, Cody decided to retreat as he backed away from the flames, covered his face with his hands, and ran off, eventually disappearing into the night, but his screams could still be heard.

"I'm going to what?" A boy yelled. "Huh? I'm going to fucking what?"

Molly had just finished throwing the game controller away from herself and was still breathing heavily as she rubbed her neck. Somehow, it still felt as if the cord was touching her. "Looks like you took a hell of a beating. You alright?" The boy asked in a more gentle, concerned voice.

Molly looked to whoever had saved her, hoping that he wasn't going to hurt her himself, and saw a hand extended towards her to help her. She looked to the person who's hand was extended and saw a boy around her age. He wore a grey, black, and white, puffer jacket with woodland camouflage pants. On top of his shoulder length black hair was a backwards blue baseball cap.

He looked friendly enough. Friendly enough for a boy that did something to send another boy screaming.

Molly took his hand, and she could hear the struggle he had of helping her up as he gave out a long grunt.

When she was mostly up, he grabbed her wrist with his other hand and she saw that he was holding a can of Axe body spray and a black zippo lighter.

When she was fully on her feet, he let go of her and let out a sigh. Molly wondered if she really was that heavy.

"I'm alright." She said to the boy. "Thanks for saving me."

"Yeah, no problem." The boy replied. "Look, I'm going to cut to the chase. You want to live? Then you'll have a better chance with me and the others."

"Others?" Molly asked. "There's more of you?"

"Of course there's more of us." The boy said with a wide grin and widened his arms, answering like it was obvious. "Can't start a revolution with only one person, now can you? So what do you say? You in or what?"


End file.
